Elle
What can you say about a girl you loved in the midst of disaster?
That she was beautiful?
That she saved you?
She was a flower among the rocks.
Her body,
The ribbons in her hair,
Her breasts,
The soft skin of her wrists,
The belt fastening her skirt,
Her walk,
Her voice and the tickle of her breath,
Her hazel eyes.
The intimacies she allowed in the midst of thunderous noise,
Beneath the gathering, dark clouds.
Her handkerchief.
She smelled of soap, as every girl should.
I’ll return that handkerchief when we see each other again.
It still carries her scent.
She was beautiful.